


Little Champion

by Anonymous



Series: Dream SMP Stories to Cry About [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Absolutely no one asked but here it is anyways, Father-Son Relationship, Floris | Fundy Has Abandonment Issues, Floris | Fundy Needs A Hug, Floris | Fundy-centric, Fox Hybrid Floris | Fundy, Fundy fans come get your rations, Insane Wilbur Soot, Sad Wilbur Soot, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings, Wilbur Soot is Floris | Fundy's Parent, Wilbur just take care of your son, i almost cried while writing this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-24 18:33:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30076539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Wilbur Soot had a plan for his life when he was young. Becoming a single father at age twenty-one was definitely not part of it but he wouldn't trade his little boy for the world. He does his best to be a good father, he gives Fundy the best life he is able to provide, but life is messy and things don't go to plan.Eventually, he realizes, even though the haze of paranoia, anger, pain, and insanity, he just wants to hold his little boy again.(I saw a TikTok about this first chapter and just had to write it. This is the result of that.)
Relationships: Floris | Fundy & Wilbur Soot, Wilbur Soot/Sally the Salmon
Series: Dream SMP Stories to Cry About [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2212890
Comments: 2
Kudos: 46
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Grief

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally supposed to be a one-shot of just a series of short scenes, but some of them ended up being way longer than I thought they would so I decided to make it into a book of short stories. So if a couple of chapters are a bit short that is why. 
> 
> This was a lot of fun to write and I'm thinking of doing something similar for other DSMP characters! Any works similar to this will be added to the series so subscribe if you want to find them!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How long has it been since he lost Sally? Wilbur isn't sure, but he knows it's been long enough. He shouldn't have been neglecting his son for so long.

Wilbur was tired. Probably because he hadn't had a proper night's sleep in years, not that he would be able to fall asleep if he had the chance. His bed felt far too cold and empty without his love beside him. He hugged a pillow tight to his chest but it didn't feel quite the same. 

"Daddy?" 

He shook his head slightly to clear his thoughts. He couldn't let himself get caught up in his memories; not when he had his little boy to think about. 

"Yes, my little champion?"

Fundy's eyes brightened at the familiar nickname, "Why don't you sing anymore?"

He frowned at the question, "What do you mean? We sing all the time."

“No, we don't. I practice piano and you hum. We used to do songs all the time, you, me, and Mummy. Why don't we anymore?”

The ache in Wilbur's heart only grew, “Well, it wouldn't be quite the same without Mummy, would it?”

“So? Just ‘cause it’s different doesn't mean it's bad," His son's ears drooped a bit and his tail stopped swishing. “I miss you, Daddy.”

Oh

_Oh._

What was wrong with him? Had he really been so wrapped up in his own grief that he hadn't noticed his little boy's pain? Oh, Sally would be so cross with him if she could see what he'd done.

He'd hardly had time to open up for a hug before Fundy was wrapped up in his arms, “Oh my little champion. I'm so sorry.”

Fundy burrowed impossibly deeper into the crook of his elbow, making a series of content-sounding noises.

“Let's sing a song, what do you say?” Wilbur pulled back a bit, his arms still wrapped around his son. 

With a quick nod, Fundy scurried over to the little piano in the corner, quickly getting himself situated, “Can we do our song?”

“Our Song” was the little tune he and Sally had sung to Fundy since the day he was born. Wilbur had written it himself long ago. Before Fundy was born, definitely, even before Tommy had come around. He wrote it in that little cottage in the middle of nowhere, Phil humming along quietly as he cooked, Techno tapping his foot softly as he read. 

“Of course we can,” he smiled softly, picking up his guitar from its home beside the piano. He gave it a quick strum and cringed at the out-of-tune scales. He tuned it quickly and then perched himself on the stool beside the piano. “Are you ready?”

Fundy nodded enthusiastically and started playing the little melody Sally had composed for him to go with Wilbur's guitar cords.

He picked up on the slightly-off tempo beat Fundy was playing and jumped in with the familiar cords.

_There will come a soldier, who carries a mighty sword_

_He will tear your city down, oh lei, oh lai, oh lord_

Soft black feathers draped across his shoulders, heavy but comforting, the only thing grounding him to the present moment.

The sweet smell of homemade hot cocoa, warming him up from the inside, fighting the ever-present chill in his skin. 

Normally kind eyes gaze into his own, glazed over with worry. He wished he knew what had happened so he could fix it.

_There will come a poet, whose weapon is his word_

_He will slay you with his tongue, oh lei, oh lai, oh lord_

His favorite sweater, stretched and worn from constant use, but still soft and cozy as the day Techno gifted it to him.

The smell of violin rosin, sweet and earthy, the dust floating into his nose and making him want to sneeze.

A slightly metallic taste in his mouth. He really should break that bad habit of chewing his lips raw.

_There will come a ruler, whose brow is laid in thorns_

_Smeared in oil like David's boy, oh lei, oh lai, oh lord_

A too-heavy sword in his hand, his body sore and bruised after a long training session, a wide grin on his face as he dusts himself off and gets back into a fighting stance.

The smell of rich soil clinging to his brother's clothes as he returns home with a crown and a goofy grin.

A deep laugh, cold and chilling. It used to be warm, when did that change?

Wilbur forced himself out of his memories as the song came to an end and Fundy was bouncing up and down on the rickety wooden bench.

“Can we do another one?”

And his forced smile became real at the sight of the pure joy that lit up his son's face. He reached out and ruffled his hair a bit, lightly cupping his face before returning his hand to his guitar and shifting a bit.

“Of course my little champion.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Wilbur sings is called "Soldier, Poet, King" by The Oh Hellos  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pftwFnXNfkk


	2. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not the best childhood, but it's the best Wilbur can provided. At least they have each other.

If anyone had told sixteen-year-old Wilbur Soot that he'd be a single father selling drugs out of a sketchy van with his son by the time he was twenty-two he'd tell them to go sleep off whatever they'd taken. 

But… well… here he was…

“Daddy?”

“Yes, Champion?”

“Why do I have to stay in the bedroom when you have people over?”

Because I don't want these junkies and alcoholics to even breathe in your general direction.

“Daddy's work friends aren't very nice and I don't want you to have to talk to them.”

The little fox tilted his head to the side, “But they sound nice. I can hear them from the bedroom, you always laugh with them.”

“I just do that so I don't hurt their feelings.”

“Oh. Why are they your friends if you don't actually like them?”

Prime, why did his kid have to be so smart? 

“Well… they're not really my friends, they just buy from us a lot so I like to keep them happy.”

“Oh… If you ever have nice ones over can I come out then?”

Wilbur smiled, “Of course Little Champion.”


	3. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In hindsight, Wilbur should have realized off-handedly mentioning he had a son in one of his letters home was not the best way to break the news to his family.

He knew he shouldn't have left Fundy alone in the van for so long but the alternative was taking one of the most dangerous men in the country into his home and no way was happening. So he entertained the man, trying so hard to stick to business. The longer they spent having small talk, the longer his boy was alone.

After several hours, Wilbur finally managed to work out the business deal they'd originally been meeting to discuss and hurried home as fast as he could. He slowed down a bit and felt a wave of relief when he could finally see the van, looking exactly the way it had when he had left that morning.

He immediately panicked again when he realized two figures were moving around in the van, both much bigger than his son. He ran the last few meters to the van, having enough sense to pause and listen for a few moments. Wouldn't do anyone any good if he went in guns blazing with no idea what he was up against.

“Come on kid, just open the door and we can talk about this," a young voice called out. Older than Fundy but younger than Wilbur. A teenager, most likely.

He couldn't hear what his son said in response but the string of curses that followed gave him a general idea.

Pushing open the door and pulling himself up to his full height, he was entirely prepared to punt whatever no-good teenager thought it was a good idea to break into his home and scare his little champion. He most definitely was not prepared to come face to face with those electric blue eyes he hadn't seen in years.

“Wilby?” his little brother practically whispered.

“Tommy?” He stared in shock for a few moments before remembering Fundy and he rushed over to the bedroom door, knocking softly. “Fundy? It's alright Champion, you can open the door.”

“Daddy!” his son yelling happily, throwing open the door and launching himself into Wilbur's arms. “Daddy I did just what you told me! I kept the door closed and didn't open it no matter what they told me!”

Wilbur lifted the little fox up and set him on his hip, planting a soft kiss on the top of his head, “You did wonderfully, Fundy, I'm so proud of you.”

He turned at the sound of indignant sputtering caught his attention and he turned to face the blonde-haired little gremlin he hadn't exchanged a word with outside of letters in nearly six years. His brother looked good. Older, obviously, but he'd finally grown into those ridiculous-looking ears of his, and his hair had gotten more sandy-blonde instead of platinum. There were scars littered across his arms, but Wilbur had matching ones from sparring with Techno. He wasn't worried. Tommy still had that familiar, youthful glint in his eyes, the one Techno, Phil, and Wilbur himself had lost long ago. His brother was still a kid, which is everything he had wanted for him.

“Yes, Tommy?” Wilbur smirked a bit at his brother's look of absolute and utter confusion. 

“I- You- Wilbur. Dear brother of mine. I mean this in the nicest way possible but what the actual-”

Wilbur covered Fundy's ears and the little fox giggled, “Come on now Tommy, there is a child present.”

Tommy looked even more shocked, if that was at all possible, “Does Dad know?”

He chuckled a bit, “Of course Dad knows. What, he didn't tell you and Techno?”

“So, this is why you left home?” Tommy asked, looking as if all the pieces were starting to come together. “You went and had a kid with a-a what? Some kind of fox spirit?”

“Well… not a _fox_ spirit,” Wilbur smirked and put Fundy back on his own two feet as he started squirming in his grasp.

“WILBUR!”

“Well, she wasn't a fox spirit!”

“Then how the f-”

“Tommy…”

“Fudge did you end up with a fox child?”

“Bold of you to assume I know.”

This was nice. Bickering was nice. Bickering was familiar. Wilbur could do it for hours longer. But his attention was drawn to the other teenager in the room for the first time. He was shorter than Tommy by a lot, but he was probably average height since Tommy and Wilbur were both quite tall. Though he was shorter, he looked stronger than Tommy, and pretty good with a sword if the ornate hilt at his waist was anything to go by. The sword was the fanciest thing about him, though. His green shirt wasn't even buttoned properly and his jeans were frayed at the bottom hems. 

It wasn't his appearance that caught Wilbur's attention though, it was the way he had sat crisscross on the ground and bowed his head slightly, allowing Fundy to gently trace the ridges of his newly-forming ram horns. 

“You're like me?" Fundy asked, almost breathless as he ran his little fingers across the stubby horns.

“Mhm. Well, sort of, I guess. I mean, you're a fox and I'm a ram, but we're both hybrids if that's what you mean.”

Wilbur felt his heart swell as his son's eyes practically sparkled. It had been so long since Fundy had been able to speak with anyone other than Wilbur and the shopkeepers, let alone another hybrid.

“I'm Tubbo,” the boy smiled happily.

“My name's Fundy!”

Wilbur put a hand on Tommy's shoulder, cutting off his rant, and guided him over to the pair, “Champion? This is your Uncle Tommy.”


	4. Regret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wilbur should have known better, that's what he tells himself. It makes him feel better than accepting the fact that there was no way of knowing. He didn't like that thought. He didn't like being so helpless. Not having control.
> 
> (This chapter is the reason this book is a book and not a one-shot. Thank it, I guess. Although this is the last nice chapter y'all are getting for a while so savor it.)

Five years. That's how long he was away helping his father and brother with their Antarctic Empire. It was only supposed to be a couple of months, that was the deal. He'd come help write up some documents and such and then go back to his son, who he had left with Niki, the nice lady who owned the bakery in town. Then his idiot brother had to go off and start a freaking war. Again.

He couldn't leave Antarctic Empire territory, they were bordered by enemies on all sides and he would have just gotten himself killed. It's not like he didn't try to, of course. 

_“I need to get home to my son, Techno.”_

_“Will if you step one toe over the border you'll be shot on sight. You're no good to Fundy if you're dead.”_

_“I can't just leave him alone until the war is over.”_

_“Would you rather leave him for a few years, or forever?”_

_“I-”_

_“Wilbur I would actually like to meet my nephew one day and I'd rather our first conversation not be me having to inform him about his father's death.”_

Wilbur wrote a letter to Fundy every single day, but he was almost positive only a tiny fraction of them were actually getting to him. He missed his little champion, he wanted nothing more than to hold him again. So he poured every waking minute into winning the war. He wasn't a good fighter like the rest of his family, but he could write, and he could talk to people (his brother was severely lacking in that department and his father wasn't much better).

After five long years of non-stop negotiating, Wilbur was able to help develop a peace treaty that all parties were more or less happy with. He was on the road back to his champion not even an hour after the signing had finished. His boy would be fourteen by now, would he even remember Wilbur?

The week-long journey was the longest week of his life. He urged his horse to go faster, constantly giving it speed potions to shave off more time. He'd sent a letter ahead of himself at the first town he came to out of enemy territory. Even though the war was over, he still didn't completely trust the new allies. 

It occurred to him right as he was riding through the gates of the town's protective wall that he had no clue how to find his son. In one of the letters Wilbur had actually received, Fundy had mentioned that he'd had to sell the van. Wilbur didn't blame him, Fundy and Niki had needed the money and there wasn't much his then-eleven-year-old could actually do with a drug van. Fundy was living with Niki anyways. Still, the van had been their home for their entire time in this particular town and he wasn't sure where else Fundy would be.

He tied up the horse in the stables, giving the workers some money to take good care of it. Then he ran to the bakery, hoping Niki was still there. The few patrons milling around the little shop looked very concerned at the sight of a young man in an almost military-like uniform banging the door open, eyes frantic and darting around the shop. Wilbur could care less as he went up to the counter and called out for the owner of the bakery.

“So sorry sir! What can I get fo- oh!” Niki was drying her hands as she came out from the back, but dropped the towel in surprise when she saw who it was. A wide grin spread across her face and she hurried around the counter to hug Wilbur. “Wil! You said in your letter you'd be another two days!”

“I just couldn't wait to get back, my poor horse has had a long week,” He chuckled slightly. “Thanks so much again for looking after Fundy after all this time.”

“Oh it's been lovely having him to help out, he's even going to keep working here after you two get a house," Niki took his hand and led him into the back room. “He's out running an errand for me, but he should be back any minute.”

Wilbur sat down at the little table, leaning back in his chair tiredly, “Out of curiosity, how many letters of mine actually made it to you guys?”

“Hmm,” Niki thought for a moment. “We got one about once every month or so. But we could tell based on the way you wrote them that you had written more.”

Knowing that Fundy was aware that he wasn't ignoring him was a small comfort at the idea that only a few of his letters had actually made it through.

Niki poured him a glass of water, which he accepted gratefully. His mouth was suddenly very dry. Now that he was mere minutes from seeing his son again, Wilbur was weirdly nervous. What would he say? He would practically be a stranger to his son now. He'd missed so much…

“I've got to stay out front, but you're free to stay back here as long as you need,” Niki tightened her ponytail as she went back out to the front, giving him a reassuring smile as she did.

Wilbur did everything he could to stop his knee from bouncing so quickly, it didn't really work though so he gave up after about thirty seconds. He sipped from his water glass as he thought about what he could possibly say to his son. It had been so long since he'd spoken to him face to face, and their broken letter conversations were hardly a substitute. 

_“Why do you have to go Dad?”_

_“Your Grandpa and Uncle Techno need my help, and family always comes first.”_

_“Why can't I come with you?”_

_“It's complicated, but the simplest thing I can tell you is that it's just not safe. You'll be better off staying with Niki, you know?”_

_“Not really, no.”_

_“I know it's not ideal, Champion, but I just can't bring you with me, I'm sorry. But I won't be gone long, a few months at most.”_

_“Will you be back in time for Christmas?”_

_“Oh definitely, I'll make sure of it.”_

He had spent that Christmas having an admittedly good time with his father and brother. He hadn't spent a holiday with them in so long, it was almost like old time. Of course, it was different without Tommy, but it was still nice spending time with at least some of his family. But that Christmas was missing the one family member he really wanted to see. He'd sent a letter to Fundy, but that was before they'd figured out most of their mail was being intercepted, so it was likely he never received it.

“I got the eggs but the lady's trying to up her prices again. Two emeralds for a dozen eggs? She's actually insane if she thinks-”

Fundy had pushed the door open with his back, his arms full of various goods, so he didn't notice who was actually sitting at the table until he finally managed to kick the door closed with his foot after trying and failing to use his hand. He froze, almost like a deer in the headlights, only his tail was moving as it swished back and forth slowly. 

Wilbur stood from his seat and gave his son a small smile, "Fundy…”

The fox breathlessly set the packages on the counter as Wilbur made his way over, taking in every inch of his son. A lot had changed in five years, that much was clear at least. He'd hit his growth spurt, of course, being over a foot and a half taller than when Wilbur had last seen him. He'd gotten more muscle as well, probably from helping Niki and doing odd jobs around town, as he had mentioned in one of his letters. His hair had gotten a bit brighter too, you could tell it was red now, when before it had looked more brown. His clothes were well worn but very clearly well-take-care-of. 

Wilbur hadn't exactly left him with much money before he had left, only expecting to be gone for a few months.

The pair had gotten close enough now that Wilbur could see his son's eyes. They were a bit watery, but so were Wilburs. He could still see that familiar spark, his son still had his childhood, the wonder he'd loved seeing so much. Fundy was okay.

His small smile broke into a huge grin and he pulled Fundy into his arms, letting the little fox bury his face in his chest once again. Oh, it felt so good to hold his little boy again.

“Oh Fundy…” Wilbur didn't know what else to say.

Fundy sniffled a little bit, but Wilbur could hear the smile in his voice, “Welcome home, Dad.”

“I missed you my little champion.”


End file.
